I am that young man who cant seem to say what he wants to
but he can think it
and he cant believe what they tell him
but he can deny it
he cant feel what they feel
but he can hear it
he sits alone, in the dark, crying, laughing, he doesnt care
he just knows he wont be there tommorrow
he knows that they'll come for him, but he wont notice
theyll wrap him up, and take him away
put him in his own box, with his own label
leave him to his own self
so he can rot
can disentegrate into what once promised to be a great world
but now is only a disgusting ball of hypocracy
war, business, economy
lyingcheatingwinning
losingdying
he doesnt care anymore
hes been listening to the voices
they make sense
they know whats good
they make it all better
they're there when noone else is
yes, the voices know when its time to bleed
but they dont know why they cant
he doesnt either
his family looks at him crying
they look at eachother like it was one anothers fault
but at least they're lookign at eachother
she looks at him
she know what that place is like
she wants to be there with him
truthfully he wanted her more than anything
wanted her more than he wanted to exist
wanted to touch, to taste
but wouldnt
they told him not to
even when he had the chance
so he didnt
and now here he is
in his own box
with his own label
slowly rotting
as the doctors tell them that hes hopeless
hopeless?
thats a term for the living, the voices express
you, they inform him, are just insane.